


Poison

by Sir_Bedevere



Series: Invitations [2]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Light Angst, Mild Blood, Not a Happy Story, not a happy time, oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 07:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: The party that they don't go to.





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time in the middle

Hermes drops by with the invitation on a day that Persephone has drunk so much whisky, she can barely see straight. That ain’t so unusual in the greater scheme of things, not when she and Hades had such a fight before he went to work that she’d swear she could see the smoke comin’ from his ears. What is unusual – least she thinks – is that Hermes is givin’ her a look as he shoves the envelope into her hand. Hard to say exactly what kinda look it is, but Persephone ain’t sure that she likes it. 

“Hey, sister,” he says. “What’s the news, huh?”

His voice is – soft ain’t word she’d ever use to talk about her brother, but when he sits down next to her and puts his hand on her arm, soft is all she can think. Isn’t sure she likes it. 

She shakes him off and reaches for the bottle. 

“None to tell,” she says, round a tongue that feels too heavy in her mouth. She swigs at the bottle to wash it down, but it doesn’t help, truth be told. Doesn’t help either that for once in his life Hermes has his mouth shut and the only sound is her throat openin’ and closin’ as the whisky pours down it. And the damn hammers in the distance too, ringin’ in her ears. Not like she can’t hear them either. 

“Sure,” Hermes gets to his feet, wipes his hands on his pants. “Well, Pa’s usual there, for both of ya.”

“Sure,” Persephone echoes. “Thanks, I guess.”

She watches him out of the door, tipping his hat to her as though she is behavin’ like a lady who deserves it. 

The invitation sits on the table for what could be hours, though it is hard to tell if the time is even passin’. Time doesn’t go the same down below. But after a while, she picks up the envelope and rips it open. 

Pa’s usual, Hermes had said, but that ain’t strictly true. Cos she can’t even remember the last time Hades had been invited to anything. It hasn’t been since – well, Ma doesn’t much like him being there these days, so it has been a while for sure. Not that Hades was even much concerned with not being thought of whenever Pa is sendin’ out the summons. And Persephone – well, she goes to plenty of parties in the summer, more than she can rightly stand sometimes, and she’s never felt like she is missing out on the winter ones before, stuck down here. 

The invitation is on black card with silver letters and for once Pa ain’t messing around pretendin’ that there was any reason for it ‘cept his usual meddlin’. The words blur a little bit in front of her eyes and she laughs, the noise bouncin’ off the goddamn walls. 

Gods, the walls. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at ‘em. Must fall asleep, cos the next thing she knows, Hades is standing at the door. 

“You been here all day?” he asks, his arms folded across his chest, and she can’t tell what he’s thinkin’ cos he’s got those damn sunglasses on. He doesn’t need ‘em down below, no chance of a bloody ray of light gettin’ in here to hurt his eyes, but he wears ‘em anyway. Like it’s a game and she is just meant to know what he’s got on his mind. 

“So what if I have?” She sits up and reaches for the bottle nearest her. It’s a test and maybe he knows it, cos his head seems to follow her hand but he doesn’t say anything. She takes a drink and keeps her eyes open and on him the whole time, stares at his sunglasses and hopes she’s lookin’ him right in the eye. 

He shrugs, arms still folded, but he doesn’t take a step closer. Perhaps he’s rememberin’ the things she called him that morning, or maybe he’s thinkin’ on the things that he said. Either way, ain’t neither of them got anythin’ to be proud of, and she don’t blame him for keepin’ away just now. 

“Yeah, I been here all day,” she says. “What you got to say about it?”

He shrugs again, like that’s an answer to her question, and she shakes her head. 

“Don’t knock yourself out actually talkin’ now. Sure you’ve had a long day.”

“Long enough.” He reaches up then and takes off the sunglasses, tucks ‘em into his pocket. Home from a long day at the office and he ain’t even loosened his buttons some, let alone taken off his coat or his tie. She wonders sometimes if it hurts him, being trussed up so every day of his life. Remembers the days when she could get him to loosen up with just a raise of her eyebrows. 

Gods, those days seem long ago. 

“What’s that?” he asks, comin’ into the room as she flops down, arms behind her head. He’s picked up the invitation, slipped it out. Easy enough to see the look on his face now. He ain’t one for hiding what he feels when Pa is concerned. 

“Party. Pa wants us there, day after next.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’,” he rumbles, throwing it down on the table like it’s burnin’ him. “What’s he after? Ain’t been to one of his parties for years.”

“Don’t know,” Persephone yawns, and ignores the feeling in her belly that she’s about to make things a whole lot worse. “But I thought I might go.”

He turns, quick as a fox, and his eyes are dark. 

“Why?”

She shrugs. Two can play at that game. Sits up, rolls her head, stretches her neck. Makes him wait for it, and it works. He stares at her the whole time, his jaw workin’. Here’s her husband, the jealous man who actually feels something in his blood sometimes. The man who ain’t actually made of marble, much as lately he’s been actin’ like he is. 

“Be good to see Ma. Ain’t seen Auntie Hes for a while. Last time I saw Ares he promised he had something to tell me.”

That’s a lie, about Ares, but she’s gotta do something to get Hades’ blood boiling, something other than callin’ him names. 

His hands roll into fists and then come loose, and he runs a hand over his hair. 

“You hate Ares,” he says, and his voice is so even she knows that he’s barely keepin’ a hold of himself. This is more like it. 

“Sure. Doesn’t mean he might not have something I want to hear.” 

“You’re lyin’. If you want more bottles of this poison, you only gotta ask. You don’t need to go visit your father and steal his. I can get what ya want.”

“If I want to go to the damn party, Hades, I’m gonna go. Don’t think for a minute that I ain’t.”

She’s on her feet, up his face, voice raised, and he stands his ground for a minute before he takes a step back. A fire burns in her chest and she takes another step towards him, just for the satisfaction of seeing him take another one back. His eyes glint in the firelight, and she can see the flames in ‘em, but there’s less of the rage in his belly now. She can feel it. The moment has gone and passed. He’s gonna close up and keep backing away, like he always does in the end. 

So she reaches out and grabs a handful of his vest, pulls him towards her. The kiss ain’t a pretty one. His body goes stiff and she has to force his head down, but she does, and finally he bends to her. She kisses him hard, bites at his lips and his tongue, and doesn’t stop till she tastes blood on her own lips. He stares at her, dumb like an idiot, when she pulls away. He puts a finger to her mouth and wipes the blood – his own blood – away from her lips. She sees it glistening on his finger tip, and sucks his finger into her mouth to lick it away. A shudder goes through him and he puts out a hand like he wants to stroke her hair, but she shakes her head. 

“No. Just wanted to convince myself that there was still some lifeblood in ya. Turns out there is.”

His jaw twitches and he brushes her hand off his vest, smoothing it down, straightening it out. Back to the boss, if anyone else cared to look at him as close as she did, save the blood glistening on his lips. 

“Go to your damn party,” he growls. “Drink yourself stupid and have your brother carry you home. I ain’t got time for you when you’re like this.”

He’s a big man, but he can move fast when he wants to, and he’s out the door before she even realises he has begun to move. But Persephone can go faster, and she ain’t about to let him have the last word on this. She follows him down the corridor, towards the office. Of course he’s headed there. 

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” she asks, catching his arm. “Where’s the lecture about the winter, huh? Where’s the lecture about your time and your time only? Ma will be there. Seems like she’s getting something extra if you let me go.”

“I ain’t letting you go,” he says, but he doesn’t turn around. “You’re a woman grown and I can’t do nothing to stop you. It ain’t about the letting and the not letting.”

His shoulders are tense under his coat, and she tries to remember what they look like under the layers. Been a while since she’s seen his scars. 

“Come with me then,” she says. “Your name’s there too, on the invite. Get an evenin’ away from this place. You’ll see, I ain’t got any interest in what’s in Pa’s wine cellar. Or in Ares. I was lyin’, you’re right.”

His breathing is loud and she wants to wrap her arms around him. So she does, cos he’s her husband and _gods dammit_ , she wishes he’d look at her. He doesn’t move, but his breathing shifts and she wonders if they might forget all this nonsense from today. She can’t even remember what they quarrelled about in the morning, but she knows that she doesn’t want to quarrel any now. Not anymore. 

His hands come up to rest over hers, pressed flat against his chest, and she can feel his heart beatin’ fast under his suit. His hands are cold, but that doesn’t matter, it’s never mattered. Maybe they’re gonna forget it all – 

“I ain’t goin’,” he says eventually. His voice is slow, like he’s tired. “I do not come like a dog on a leash when he calls. ‘Specially these days.”

Persephone drops her hands, doesn’t miss how he holds onto her a second or two longer before he lets her go. 

“Screw you,” she says. “Screw you, Hades.”

When he turns – _too late to turn now, should have done it earlier you stupid man_ \- she catches a glimpse of the blood dried on his lip and wishes for a second there was more it. Wishes they were animals and she could tear the walls down from around him until he’s bleeding his true heart – his true feelings – into her hands, and maybe then she’d be able to understand him better than she does right now. 

“I’m gonna do some work,” he says slowly, like that ain’t obvious from the way he’s reachin’ desperately for the door handle of the office. “Maybe you should lie down for a spell.”

“Screw you,” she says again, cos there’s nothin’ else to say to him. “Screw you.”


End file.
